


Wonderful Mess That We've Made

by agentx13 (rebelle_elle)



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Miscarriage, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, m/m/f, sharon carter appreciation month
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6152842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelle_elle/pseuds/agentx13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve can't help but love Tony, but he can't stop loving Sharon, either. Tony and Sharon both love Steve and come up with a plan to try and make everyone happy.</p><p>Tony's never been meant for happiness, but he's willing to try.</p><p>This could be the worst idea any of them have ever had, but if it works, it could just be something worth fighting for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wonderful Mess That We've Made

Tony was far too aware of the echoing tick of the clock. Why the diner hadn’t switched to digital years ago was beyond him. Aesthetic, maybe? But then, Tony knew about aesthetic. Iron Man toys were some of the top-selling toys in the world. He _knew_ aesthetic. And clocks that ticked and tocked over the sound of a New-York crowd were not a good aesthetic.

He looked out of the corner of his eye, studying Steve. He wasn’t surprised to see him sitting as still as a statue, tense and staring at the woman across from them. Only his hands moved, his fingers tensing as he tried not to fidget. After the fight they’d had before coming here, Tony knew better than to reach out and try to console him.

Sharon Carter. She was still dressed in her SHIELD-issued outfit, a loose trenchcoat over her catsuit. She was squirming uncomfortably in her seat, but like any SHIELD agent worth their salt, she hid it well. He only saw it because he’d known her for so long. It was more like she was slowly, deliberately avoiding the subject of...

Of whatever she was going to say.

Tony, for all his genius, could only imagine. She’d walked in on him and Steve weeks ago, stared at them both naked in bed and in a clearly compromising position, and then walked out again. From what Tony could gather, she and Steve had fallen apart after that. He and Steve hadn’t fared much better; Steve had insisted that it was a mistake, that there was no future for the two of them, that they'd been angry and upset and had gotten carried away. He still loved Sharon, he couldn’t forgive himself for hurting her.

Just like Sharon couldn't forgive herself for getting brainwashed and shooting him. Just like Tony couldn't forgive himself for wiping Steve's memories after the Illuminati fiasco.

They all had things they couldn’t forgive themselves for.

Sharon glanced at her wrist, and Tony harrumphed deep in his throat. She’d better have an old-fashioned watch and not one of those damned Apple ones. As superior as Tony liked to pretend to be, he hadn’t been able to look at apples since the damn corporation had taken a bite of Stark’s third-quarter profits.

She straightened. “I guess you’re wondering why I called this meeting,” she said, with a hint of a nervous grin.

Steve forced a weak grin of his own; Tony shrugged.

She took a breath and went on. “Steve. I love you. I have since we first met. And I don’t want to lose you.” She glanced around. Her eyes fell to the tabletop, and then she forced them upwards again. “So if I have to share you, I will. And if you want me out of your life, that's okay, too. It’s up to you. I know it’s a long shot, but I have to try. Better you in my life a little than not at all.”

“Share me?” Steve echoed.

Tony held up a finger. “Are you suggesting a threesome? Because I usually prefer multiple chicks, but-” He stopped at Steve’s glare. “Or joint custody. That works, too.”

“I’ll... take what I can get,” Sharon said slowly. She looked Tony up and down as if assessing her options. Tony fought the urge to puff up his chest. She should know that his reputation was impressive. They'd known each other for long enough that she should know plenty about him.

Maybe that was part of the problem.

“Tony and I aren’t a thing, Sharon.” Steve’s voice was firm.

Tony schooled his expression to betray as little as possible.

Sharon’s lips tilted faintly in the corners. “I’ve known you both too long to think you’re completely right about that, Steve. You two have nearly as much history as you and I do. Maybe more. And I’m not stupid enough to think that the time I caught you together was the only time you’d been together.” She spread her hands wide. “Here’s what I think. I think that separately, we’re never as good as the sum of our parts. As couples, we’re off-and-on fuck-ups.” Her voice lowered. “Together, we might be able to... make things work. Maybe.” Her eyes met Steve’s, almost pleading. “And if it doesn’t work, we can walk away and free each other up for other things. No hard feelings. At least that way, we'll know that there's no way we could work out together.”

Tony looked between them as they stared at each other. They had enough of a history that he felt a little left out. He suppressed the surge of resentment in his throat. “So... is this a date?”

Sharon frowned. “It’s bad enough I dated Captain America. I don’t want to know how people at work are going to treat me if they think I’m dating Iron Man, too. No offense. I just... I want to get by on my own merit, and not because I know the Avengers. So no. This isn't a date. This is a... lunch with Steve that you tagged along for.”

Tony nodded. Tagged along for. Right. “So we’d be your dirty little secrets. I could get used to that. Kind of hot, actually.”

She blinked at him as if trying to determine how serious he was.

He waggled his eyebrows and grinned blithely back. He wasn’t going to tell.

She looked to Steve. “Steve?”

“I’ll- I’ll think about it,” Steve said slowly.

Sharon’s eyes fell to the table as if she’d known all along he would say that. As if she knew what it meant. Tony had to admit, it wasn’t encouraging. “Well. I’d better get back to work. Thanks for meeting with me.”

Steve nodded. “I love you, Sharon. No matter what.”

She smiled like it was the last thing she wanted to do. “Love you, too, Steve. Friends always, right?”

“Right.”

Steve watched her leave, then turned to mull the table.

“Do you love me?” Tony asked.

“Sometimes,” Steve said carefully, “I love the man I think you can be.”

Tony frowned. He hadn’t expected an honest answer to an asshole question. In retrospect, maybe he should stop asking so many asshole questions.

* * *

The phone call came three days later. Tony had a wrench in his teeth and grease on his forehead. The wrench clanged against the ground as he heard JARVIS announce the caller’s name. “Go for Tony,” he said. His voice was full of grim cheer; he was going to fix this isolated EMP for long-range distance in zero gravity if it killed him. Impossible problem, his ass.

“Tony,” Steve said. There was something warm in his tone, and also uncomfortable. Tony would never tell him how much he liked when Steve sounded like that. “Would you be available to meet at my place tomorrow night?”

“Not tonight?”

“Sharon’s on a mission in Moldova. Won’t get in until tomorrow morning.”

That... sounded ominous. And promising.

“I’ll be there.”

* * *

Sharon had a cut on her cheek, two more on her ear, and some bruises that said she’d taken a hit. Steve passed her a pack of frozen peas as he led Tony to the table.

“How was Moldova?” Tony asked, sinking into a chair beside her. Steve had a circular table,which wasn’t going to convince Tony that Steve didn’t secretly have a King Arthur fetish. Three chairs sat at the table; the fourth was against the wall.

“Moldovan,” Sharon said wryly. She pressed the peas to her cheek, and her eyelids fluttered as she tried not to hiss in pain. Like Steve and Tony, she’d evidently tried to dress up without seeming as if she’d dressed up. She wore an understated black dress with black boots, her hair up in a relaxed and messy bun. Tony knew her enough to spot the touches of makeup that she didn’t normally wear. he’d worked at SHIELD and with the Avengers long enough to pick out some of the hiding spots for knives and guns in the dress and boots. He remembered some of Sharon's psychological assessments from when he'd been Director of SHIELD and wondered how many weapons she had tucked away. Paranoia, paranoia.

“I hear it’s very Moldovan this time of year,” he agreed. He looked to Steve, who hovered silently and then disappeared into the kitchen. “Not a great host, is he?” he mused.

“He’s got a casserole in the oven,” she said, sounding amused. She caught his eye, and whatever else she’d been about to say died in her throat.

Tony lifted an eyebrow.

“Here we go,” Steve said, a little too cheerfully. Before Tony knew what was happening, he found a large casserole set in the middle of the table, and a significant portion of it steaming on his plate. “And here’s the salad,” Steve continued, still too cheerful and too loud.

“Ground rules,” Tony said suddenly.

Sharon shoveled some salad onto her plate; Steve had already served her a pile of the casserole.

Steve froze and stared at him; Sharon’s expression was merely curious.

“Not that you two aren’t both very cute about this, but you’re beating around the bush. From what I’ve read online, we need to set ground rules.”

“Read online?” Sharon echoed. This time, she was the one to raise an eyebrow.

Tony shrugged. “I generally like one-on-one relationships with women. I’m making an exception because Steve reminds me of my high school gym teacher, Brunhilda.”

She snorted, then looked considering. “I can see that,” she said at last, her eyes twinkling a little as she looked at Steve, who looked down at her with a faint smile. “Brunhilda had a nice ass, right?”

“The nicest,” Tony agreed.

Steve’s smile dropped, and he rolled his eyes before taking his seat. “Sharon doesn’t like bondage.”

“Steve doesn’t like having his feet tickled,” she said, nearly as quickly.

Tony raised both eyebrows. “Seriously?”

Steve shuddered. “Let’s not get into that.”

Tony shook his head and pulled his tablet from his pocket. “We’re going to have to get into it. The more communication we have, the better our chances.”

Sharon studied him. “You didn’t get _that_ from Brunhilda,” she accused.

He shrugged. “Fine, fine. I’ve seen porn, read some stuff about _50 Shades of Grey_... And you know what? We don’t have to get into that right now.”

She smirked.

“Let’s go down the list,” Tony announced. “And then we’ll work out more stuff.”

* * *

Tony was scientific. He was methodical.

He was naked on Steve’s bed with an equally naked Sharon beside him while Steve sat in a chair against the wall. Sharon's kiss against Tony's lips was shy, almost timid, and he wished she had more of Steve's overwhelming force.

“Not awkward at all,” Tony told her. This wasn’t going to work, they had decided, if he and Sharon simply divided Steve’s time between them. They needed to uphold their end of the triangle, and that meant getting along. They had all agreed that unless each of them got along in pairs, they couldn't get along as a triangle. Now that they were fumbling together like teenagers at same-sex schools interacting for the first time, he wondered what they’d been thinking. “You want to slap me again?” he asked. “For old times’ sake?”

She looked down at him ruefully. “I want this to work,” she told him. He could see the moment she decided to try a different tactic. Her expression changed, all shyness and doubt disappearing. In one swift movement, she was on top of him, straddling him, and his eyes were caught by the sway of her breasts.

He grunted. It was supposed to be a witty remark about how he wanted this to work, too. In the end, he got as far as the grunt before she pulled his hands to her chest. When she leaned down to kiss him again, it wasn't with Steve’s overwhelming force, but Tony decided he could work with it.

* * *

They didn’t date so much as meet up for work and see to their extracurricular activities on the side. One such work meeting found Tony and Steve in a bathroom at an upscale restaurant, ostensibly to talk about Avengers recruitment. True to their agreement, they sent Sharon a picture to let her know what they were up to. In the interest of keeping the relationship out of the media and away from SHIELD, Tony sent the picture to the phone he’d secured just for her that even he would have difficulty hacking into without her permission. Two weeks later, he got a picture from some godforsaken jungle with her and Steve making faces at the camera. Two days after that, there was another photo from the Great Wall.

By the time Tony realized they hadn’t actually had sex at the Great Wall of China, that they’d merely sent him selfies from a mission, he’d already decided to make it a contest, and Steve got a photo of Tony and Sharon at the Eiffel Tower, her hair faintly askew and her lip balm on Tony’s lips, some time later.

* * *

It took Tony months to realize why they worked better as a set of three rather than just a couple of pairs. He and Steve were polar opposites in too many ways and butted heads when left on their own for too long; it was Sharon who reminded them both that the other had worthwhile points. She was cool-headed while they yelled at each other, but the cool head disappeared when she was calling out Tony for being an ass or calling out Steve for rushing in without thinking. It took him a few months more to see she only got upset like that when she was scared. She wasn’t as romantic as the others, spent too much time at work. Without him and Steve, Tony wasn’t sure she’d have a life at all. Steve was hard-headed, and Tony had never realized before how easily the good captain could fall into guilty melancholy about all the people he had failed to save, etc., etc. He and Sharon tag-teamed when they were apart in an attempt to lift his spirits. It was a two-person job. He didn’t tell either of them that it was a full-time job for each of the two; he was starting to like what they had together and didn’t want anyone else squeezing their way into it.

Apart, Tony reasoned, they were doomed. Steve and Sharon were exceptionally lucky to have him.

* * *

The flash nearly blinded him, and Tony smiled through the pain and bumped Steve’s elbow with his own. “Not that I’m not enjoying this, but how much longer before I can go back to my lab?” he said through clenched teeth.

Steve had a similar smile on his face, stretched tight and stiff. “Are you serious?”

Tony didn’t want to say that he _was,_ in fact, serious. He knew that they had to keep up the pretense of him still being a playboy for Sharon’s job and because he cared what people thought about Steve and hell, would people even buy tech from a sex freak such as himself? Better not to find out. But now that he had Steve and Sharon - though lately, it had been Steve _or_ Sharon, depending on how their work shook out - taking women home had lost something of its allure. He’d tried playing Super Mario Brothers with the last one; she’d actually been pretty good, but had left soon after beating him at Maria Kart. He had half a mind to hire her and put her in his Development department.

Instead, he said, “Stark patents don’t create themselves. Patents were around in your day, weren’t they?”

Steve rolled his eyes and reached to shake Tony’s hand as the reporters directed.

“Where’s Sharon, anyway?”

“By the drink table. For some reasons, spies aren’t fond of having their photos taken in front of the international press.”

Tony’s eyes brightened.

“I’m in the penthouse. You two should come visit later. She's been out of the country so much lately I haven't had the chance to hang out with you two in too long.”

Steve’s smile became more natural. “I’ll ask her and see if she’s up to it.”

* * *

Weirdly, Tony found he liked breakfast with them more than- well, not more than the sex, certainly, but more than he’d thought he would. He liked the way Sharon buttered her rolls, the way Steve read the paper and simultaneously inhaled most of his food without looking at it. He liked that he and Sharon could gang up on Steve when Steve said Star Trek was better than Star Wars, and that he and Steve could gang up on her when she said the Packers were the best team in the NFL. He liked that on nights when they hadn't seen each other in ages, he and Sharon could talk about how sore they were until Steve's ears turned red, and if they pushed harder, Steve would declare that he'd be happy to help them loosen up again.

He liked that the more comfortable they got with one another, the more he noticed Steve making a keening sound, almost like a quiet grunt, when he desperately wanted something, and that Sharon got louder the safer she felt, when she knew no one but the two of them would hear.

He wasn’t sure which of them was the most surprised when they hit their one-year anniversary.

* * *

They still weren’t official, though Tony suspected some people had put the pieces together. He’d never known anyone to successfully keep a secret from Natasha, for instance.

Still, official or not, Tony wanted to mark the occasion.

Sharon slept for most of the flight, going from one plane, to a debriefing at SHIELD, and then to Tony’s plane one after the other, and Tony and Steve talked quietly and played cards until Tony had to cave, too. He fell asleep against Sharon, and Steve sat across from them quietly. If he was standing guard or just watching, Tony couldn’t tell, but on the couple of occasions that he opened his eyes and found Steve watching, he felt the warmth in his chest spread all over again.

*

“How’d you get to be such a romantic?” Sharon asked as she touched the jewels at her throat. She looked like she was afraid to handle them too roughly, and Tony smirked and adjusted them again. Steve wore a necklace, too, though it looked almost exactly like the one used for his dogtags. Tony had gotten a matching necklace for himself, only his dogtags were more of the “You Know Who I Am” variety.

Tony had decreed that for this weekend, they were going to have sex, and they were going to have it while wearing only their new necklaces.

Sharon’s was by far the gaudiest. That, Tony thought, was what gender norms got them. Women could wear fancy necklaces and dresses, but men, yeesh. But he'd wanted to show them that he cared, and he'd never been inclined to say the L word (no, not the "lesbians" word, the other one), and he hoped that the size of the jewels would convey the message enough that he didn't have to say it.

He stepped back to survey his handiwork and nudged Steve in the ribs. Steve hadn’t said anything since Tony had helped Sharon into her necklace and out of the dress. He didn’t say anything now, either, just made that weird keening sound again.

Tony grinned at Sharon, who grinned back. “You should keep the heels on, too.”

Steve made another, deeper keening sound.

* * *

It was almost two months before Tony kicked himself for having hope that it might work out. It had been too perfect, and now it was in danger of falling apart. He wasn’t even sure what he had had done wrong, but Sharon started missing dates, and Steve started brooding and grew increasingly short-tempered, and when Tony had called Sharon to ask what the hell was going on, she'd snapped at him and told him she was busy keeping the world safe, thanks.

Tony went to Sharon’s apartment. The relationship he had with the two of them was one of the best he’d had. If it was going to end, he damn well wanted to know why. And a real reason, not an excuse.

When she finally opened the door, her eyes were red. The more his anger faded at the sight of her, the wetter her eyes got.

“I’m pregnant,” she choked out. He barely got the door closed behind him before she threw her arms around his neck and wept against his shirt.

* * *

“That explains it,” Steve muttered. Tony and Sharon sat in the living room chairs while Steve took the couch. Steve looked to the wet tissue in Sharon’s hand, then at her face. “You always did get... testy... when you were scared.”

She managed a wet smile. “I’ll get testy on you for saying that later,” she threatened. She looked to Tony. “Thing is, after the Skull... I didn’t think I could get pregnant. At all. And now...”

Tony didn’t even try to joke. “It’s unlikely she’ll be able to carry to term. There are some hospitals that’ll give her more of a chance, if she wants...”

Sharon nodded. “I- I do. I- I do.” But her eyes fell to her lap and didn’t come up again.

“Liar,” Tony said lightly, unwilling to think too hard on why she wouldn’t want it. She'd lost the last child she'd been pregnant with, but that had been to protect it from the Skull. Or did she only want this one out of guilt for not saving the last one?

Steve stared at Sharon until she looked up.

“Maybe,” Sharon said slowly, “I’m not getting younger. I can’t do field work forever. And if it looks like Tony, then-”

Tony’s heart skipped a beat, and he swallowed to keep the terror down. He wasn’t father material. He’d fucked up far too much for that. God, let it be Steve’s.

“Then so be it,” she said, her tone firmer, stronger. “So what if people know about the three of us. Maybe it’s time we get it out there. Stop hiding. But I’m pregnant. And no child should suffer just because I want to keep a job I won’t be able to keep forever anyway, or because I want to keep a secret that might not be kept forever anyway, right?”

Steve nodded and reached out to cover her hands with one of his own, far larger and heavier ones. Tony put a hand on Sharon’s back.

“Whatever you want, Sharon,” Steve said. His voice was firm, his eyes sincere.

Tony nodded and tried to sound just as sincere when he said, “We’ll back you up no matter what.”

* * *

She lost the baby three weeks later at a hospital in Europe. Tony was giving a speech nearby while Steve sat with her, and when he got the news, Tony went straight to the hospital. He clasped Steve's shoulder, just like a friend would, and Steve got up and left the room without a word. Tony took his seat. The hospital was public enough that he didn’t touch anything more than her hand. No baby meant they could keep this secret a while longer, and Tony, whether out of fear of how the change might affect them, or a selfish desire to keep them to himself, or both, was relieved. And that made him feel guilty.

“Hey, slugger.”

She sighed, and he remembered the last time he’d seen this look on her face, the one of shell-shocked resignation that had been stuck there after her captivity by the Red Skull. He wondered, not for the first time, if it had been a kindness on Faustus’s part to erase her memories of that time.

“How are you holding up?”

She focused on his face. “Better than Fury,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I didn’t tell him I was pregnant. He found out somehow, and now he’s pissed.”

Tony whistled. “We knew something that old bastard didn’t? Damn.”

She grinned weakly, but then there was a sound deep in her throat. Tony jumped to his feet, but it wasn’t a heart attack, just a dry sob. In some ways, that was worse. He’d seen Sharon weep before, seen her cry. He was one of the few people who’d ever seen her sob, but seeing her cry when she had no tears left twisted something in his chest.

“I did everything I was supposed to,” she whispered. “I did everything right. I swear I did. I tried. I tried so hard...”

Tony shushed her for a couple seconds, then threw caution to the wind and climbed up beside her. Comfort for her and easing his own guilt over his relief. Everybody won. He was just a close friend getting chummy with another close friend. Yep. He wrapped his arms around her as best he could without upsetting the wires and tubes. “Sometimes, we’re absolutely perfect, and it still isn’t enough,” he reasoned. “Look at me. I was perfect, and my dad was still a dick to me. It was probably my kid after all, being a dick to its parents. Runs in the family. Speaking of dicks, look at Steve. He’s perfect, and we both know what a dick he is. A huge, super-serumed dick.”

It took more talking and cajoling before Sharon could crack a grin, and by the time Steve returned with a bouquet, Sharon slept lightly but peaceably in Tony’s arms.

Tony gave Steve an apologetic look, and Steve glanced at the doorway to make sure the coast was clear before brushing some of Tony’s hair aside and kissing Tony’s temple.

* * *

Fury knew about the menage a trois.

Tony knew Fury knew.

Tony knew it the second Fury teamed him up with Sharon and Steve. A mission, he called it. A personal favor to keep the world safe.

It involved a bar, Tony sharing tech, Sharon on her own at the bar, and Steve on the other side of a hotel with dozens of killers all around, most of them between Steve and Tony and Sharon.

Tony hated almost all of it. He hated that Fury was using the information about them to his own ends. He hated that he couldn’t use his suit so as to not start an international incident. He hated that he couldn’t be with Steve or Sharon during the more dangerous parts of the mission. He hated that room service didn’t offer pizza. He hated that Sharon seemed to be drinking a little too much. He hated worrying that she might run from her problems the same way he’d run from so many of his. He hated that Steve was so far away. He hated feeling helpless.

He liked that they got put in one room. He liked how much time they’d spent navigating the bathtub only to end up in a tangle of feet and elbows and hadn’t actually gotten clean at all. He liked the single bed and the way Steve had held him close as their bodies rocked and how Sharon’s teeth dragged along his collarbone and how she ran her fingers through his hair as he fell asleep with his head on her chest. He liked the ride to the airport when they were done and how Sharon started sleeping off the scotch as soon as they determined they were safe.

“What would you do to stop me from drawing a dick on her face?” he mused.

“Tony,” Steve chided.

“Fine, fine.”

He drew one on her hip instead, where only he, Steve, and Sharon could see it, with a note telling her hello.

A week later, he found a temporary tattoo covering the majority of his chest. It was pink and glittery and in the shape of a puppy. He had no idea how she pulled it off.

* * *

The second anniversary was much like the first. They went away, they spent time alone. They thought they had done everything perfectly. This time, inspired by his dick drawing on Sharon and her temporary tattoo payback, Tony talked them into getting tattoos. Sharon got a small XIII on her ankle, Steve got a shield on his lower back. Only when they were both inked did Tony try to argue that he already had a mark for being Iron Man.

He ended up getting both a shield and Sharon’s roman numerals on his hip. He would never tell them how much he liked each bit of ink, how they reminded them of the people they signified.

They found stephanotis flowers from Fury on the doorstep when they left, and they looked at each other for several minutes.

“Next time,” Tony vowed, “we’re just going to stay on the plane.”

“He’ll probably shoot it down just to prove a point,” Sharon muttered, taking the white flowers from Tony and looking them over. Of the three of them, white was more her color, and Tony made a note to have the flight attendants find a vase for her in case she wanted to keep them.

“Still.”

* * *

Tony didn’t realize that he had changed at all until Rhodey mentioned that he seemed to be showing up for things on time.

“Maturity,” Tony said decisively. “You’ll understand when you’re older like me.”

Rhodey grinned, and Tony wondered if he knew. It seemed more people were catching on, and sometimes it kept him up at night. He, Steve, and Sharon all had their own enemies. Each of them could look after themselves for the most part. But he was a super genius with imagination; he could see the multitude of ways they could be attacked and have no time to defend themselves. He could see a day when all he had to remember them by were the shield and roman numerals on his hip.

* * *

The third anniversary got them each a new Stark watch. These, Tony assured them, would work better than Apple’s crap version, and they were completely secure. They could only communicate with each other and with JARVIS. He ran through a list of their security features, how the watches could monitor pulse and location and body temperature, and how they could each check on each other no matter what.

Steve and Sharon looked at each other as if they understood, and the way they kissed him did more to calm Tony’s nerves than any spoken platitudes could.

There were more flowers from Fury as they left.

“God damn it,” Tony muttered.

Steve nodded solemnly.

Tony handed the flowers to Sharon. Someone should get some satisfaction out of the damn things.

* * *

Sharon showed up at Tony’s door shortly after Christmas. JARVIS let her in, and Tony went to meet her in the foyer.

She touched her lower abdomen.

Tony turned around. “PEPPER! I need that list of hospitals again. Which one is the best these days?”

* * *

None of them liked the next seven and a half months. Sharon wasn’t allowed to be active and for the most part had to lie in bed, which made her cranky and... if he were being honest with himself, the sort of childish he’d come to expect from himself, but never from her. Steve and Tony tried to take turns staying with her, but their tempers wore thin, too. Tony bought a house nearby for them both, but without Sharon to bridge them, they began to strain each other’s nerves as much as she strained theirs. Their relationship suffered, though they both went out of their way to hide it for Sharon’s sake. Sharon was tired, irritated, and frightened, and more often than not it was up to them to bear the brunt of it. She didn’t need to know that when Steve and Tony were alone with one another, they argued about everything from who left the newspaper where to who ate the last of the cereal to who should replace the paper towels when they ran out.

Tony took to sleeping on the couch so he could avoid Steve’s disappointed looks, but that meant he had to deal with Steve’s patriotic speeches and old-man glowering when the star-spangled bastard watched the news first thing in the morning. Steve usually avoided watching the news, but with Sharon in the hospital, it was as if Steve went out of his way to find things to be upset about.

Tony found himself playing with his dogtags, repeating that he loved them, he really did love them.

He just wished that Sharon would sleep more and Steve would talk less, that was all.

* * *

Tony ordered the doctors to do whatever Sharon deemed necessary. He stayed out of it as best he could after that, because as much as he appreciated women’s bodies, he wasn’t fool enough to think he’d ever understand one.

He refused to even look at the medical bills. The flowers that he spent too much time deliberating on in the gift shop would cost a fortune alone.

“Dogwood flowers,” Fury told him as he walked past. “She’s got a soft spot for the damn things.”

No flower shops in the city had dogwood flowers.

Tony called Pepper to apologize for the forthcoming bills in advance, then called some flower companies back in the States.

* * *

He and Steve had to wait outside during the operation. The only person who successfully hid whether they were worried or not was Fury. Steve had read up on statistics and found that Sharon had a twenty percent chance of not surviving the pregnancy. JARVIS had run through more statistics for Tony, ones that were more informed by Sharon’s more... individual condition, so Tony knew the odds were actually worse. He kept trying to check his watch for her vitals, but the doctors had made her take it off, and it sat heavy and useless in Tony’s pocket.

Steve’s foot shook nonstop for hours.

Tony played with his dogtags until an impression of the chain dug into the back of his neck.

* * *

She looked horrible. Her skin was pallid; her hair stuck to a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her smile quivered as she saw them. She was too weak to lift her hand all the way to wave at them. She wouldn’t be able to leave the ICU for another week or two, the doctor had told them, and they wouldn’t be able to visit for long. She shivered enough that Fury pulled a blanket over her legs.

She was alive, and Tony thought she looked breathtakingly beautiful.

The dogwood flowers covering everything in the room didn’t hurt.

Neither did the baby sleeping in the incubator beside her.

“We’ve got another one for the weird family unit,” she murmured. “Girl. Bigger than she looks.”

“You C-sectioned, you cheat,” Fury teased. He kept his tone quiet. “I should tell you right now, I’m that kid’s godfather.”

Sharon looked almost ashamed. “Um, sir. I should- I don’t think I can... return to field work. Definitely not soon, maybe never. If you want to let me go, I understand.”

Fury glared at her. “Carter, don’t be a fool. I know things have to change. And I know that SHIELD needs a liaison to the Avengers. Or whatever subgroup they started up this week. You used to be a Director of SHIELD, and you’re damn good at what you do. So long as I have a say, there’s always gonna be work for you at SHIELD. You’ve got medical leave saved up. Use it. Get back to me after.”

Sharon stared after him as he left, and Tony patted her leg. He didn’t understand Fury, either.

“What about a name?” Steve asked, reaching a careful hand into the incubator and using the thick glove to prod at the tiniest fingers Tony had ever seen. Tony wasn’t as terrified at the sight of the baby as he’d thought he would be.

“Margaret in there somewhere,” Sharon said firmly.

Steve nodded and smiled softly. “Sarah.”

“Anna,” Tony offered. He hadn’t been close to his own parents, but Jarvis’s wife had been a better mom to him than his own anyway.

If he were a lesser man, he’d have a heart attack at the thought of failing this child.

But he wasn’t going to fail this child. Ever. One look at her in the incubator had decided him. He would fail everyone else without regret, but he would never fail this child.

“Sarah Anna Margaret?” Sharon asked.

Tony wrinkled his nose. “Santa Anna Maria,” he said, and shook his head. It sounded too close to religious. “What about ‘Margaret Sarah Anna?’”

Sharon wrinkled her nose. “Are we christening a ship? Because that sounds like we’re christening a ship.”

“We can’t scar her for life from the get-go,” Tony reminded her.

She sighed. “Sarah Margaret Anna?”

Tony tested it out under his breath. It didn’t sound so much like somebody martyred in the twelfth century, but it still didn’t feel right. He reviewed the choices so far, cast about in his head for new ones. “Now that I’m trying it out a little more... Sarah Anna Margaret could work. We could call her Sam. As in Good Old Uncle Sam.” And wouldn’t that just mess with Wilson.

“Teach her about anagrams,” Steve said with a nod and half a smirk. “Codes. Maybe she’ll be into that.” Poor Steve, he thought. He didn’t realize that Tony wasn’t joking.

“So it’s decided?” Sharon asked. “Sarah Anna Margaret?”

Tony nodded and, now that they knew the baby was safe, made a note to child-proof Avengers Tower and the rest of New York.

“Good,” she said sleepily. “I think it’ll be good...”

She was asleep before Tony could agree.

He stood beside Steve and looked into the incubator.

“If Nat isn’t the godmother, she’ll kill us all,” he mused.

Steve nodded solemnly, and then, after a pause, “How’d we ever deserve a family like this, Tony?”

“Because I’m stupendous,” Tony said, just as solemnly, and he brushed Steve’s hair aside to kiss his temple before settling in beside Sharon. They’d stay until the doctors kicked them out. They had the right. They were family.


End file.
